قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 98, April 26 1890
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
Spheres."
INTERESTING NOVELTY.
Lady Maidstone announces "an 8·30 o'clock" (to adapt the Whistlerian title when he did his "ten-and-sixpenny o'clock") at the Westminster Town Hall, for April 26, for the production of an entirely new play, entitled Anne Tigony, by a new and original dramatic authoress of the name of Sophie Klees. It is, we understand, a domestic drama illustrative of Greek life. The great sensation scene is of course "when Greek meets Greek." This tragedy, we are informed, "refers to what, in the Greek way of thinking, are the sacred rites of the dead, and the solemn importance of burial." It is, therefore, an Anti-Cremation Society drama. The tableaux are by Mrs. Jopling, the conductor is Mr. Barney, and the leading rôle of Anne Tigony herself is to be played by my Lady Maidstone. We wish Sophie Klees every possible success, and a big and glorious future. Beware the Cremationists!—they might try to wreck the piece.
A DOUBTFUL COMPLIMENT.
"Oh yes, Sir Gus, my Husband's as well as ever, thank you, and hard at work. I've had to copy out his Pamphlet on Bi-metallism three times, he alters it so! Ah, it's no sinecure to be married to a Man of Genius. I often envy your dear Wife!"
A Rum Subject.—The Budget.
THE TIPPLER'S TRIUMPH.
(See Mr. Goschen's Budget Speech.)
Alas! we deemed him purposeless; the vinous smile that flickered up
Across his glowing countenance was meaningless to us.
We only saw a drunkard who addressed us, as he liquored up,
Not always too politely, and in words that sounded thus.
"All ri' you needn' 'shult me, I'm a berrer man than you;
Mr. Goschen couldn' shpare me as a shource of revenue."
And when we led him home at night we scorned the foolish antic all
That flung him into gutters, made him friendly with a post;
And we snubbed him when he told us—we were always too pedantical—
That he saw a thousand niggers dressed in red on buttered toast.
He was better, now I know it, than our soberheaded crew,
We who added not a farthing to the country's revenue.
And, oh, the folly of his wife, I scarcely can imagine it,
When to his room he reeled at last and went to bed in boots.
And she, with all the bearing of a Tudor or Plantagenet,
Said royally, "We loathe you; you're no better than the brutes."
Shame upon her thus to rate him, for philanthropists are few
Who as much relieve our burdens, or increase the revenue.
But now we know that Surpluses will come to fill the Treasury,
If only, like the sea-port towns, we all keep drinking rum;
And he who swills unceasingly, and always without measure, he
Is truly patriotic, though Blue-ribbonites look glum.
For to him, above all others, easy temperance is due,
Since he cheapens tea by twopence as a source of revenue.
Then here's to those who toasted well the national prosperity,
And swelled the Surplus, draining whiskey, brandy, gin, or beer;
And the man who owns a bottle-nose he owns a badge of merit; he
Takes Bardolph, and not Randolph, as a patron to revere.
Here's your health, my gallant Tippler, may you ne'er have cause to rue
That you blessed our common country as a source of revenue!
THE LAW AND THE LIVER.
[Two Magistrates have decided that selling coffee "containing 80 per cent. of chicory" is not punishable under the Adulteration Act.]
Ever since drinking my morning cup of what my grocer humorously describes as "French Coffee," I have suffered from headache, vertigo, and uncontrollable dyspepsia. I wonder what can be the cause?
Perhaps the fact (inscribed on the bottom of the tin in very small letters) that "this is a mixture of coffee and chicory," has something to do with it.
Only as the chicory is in a majority of four to one, would it not be more correct to describe it as "a mixture of chicory and coffee?"
I see that, in accordance with the Adulteration Act, my baker now sells bread which he labels as "a compound of wheat and other ingredients." Other disagreedients, he ought to say.
"Partly composed of fresh fruit," is the inscription on the jam I purchase. This means one raspberry to a pound of mashed mangold-wurzel.
We shall be taking chemically-coloured chopped hay at five this afternoon. Will you join us?
If I purchase my own coffee-beans and grind them, can my breakfast be properly termed a bean-feast?
Yes, as you say, I can no doubt guard against adulteration by keeping a couple of cows in my cellar, growing corn in my backyard, tea-plants and sugar-canes on my roof, and devoting my best bed-room to the cultivation of coffee, fruit, and mixed pickles; but would my landlord approve of the system?
And, finally, is this what they mean by a "Free Breakfast Table," that every grocer is "free" to poison us under cover of a badly-drawn Act of Parliament?
To the Public.—"Modern Types." Type not yet "used up." Type No. X. will appear next week.
OLD TIMES REVIVED.
"Returning to Old Times.—The new coaches, which are to carry the parcel mail between Manchester and Liverpool nightly, ran for the first time tonight. The coach from Manchester for Liverpool started punctually at ten o'clock from the Parcel Office, in Stevens Square. Some thousands of people had assembled to witness the inauguration of the service. The van, which has been specially constructed for the service, was well-filled with parcels, and a guard in uniform, an old soldier, took his seat inside it, armed with a six-shooter and a side-sword. The departure of the coach, which was announced by the blowing of a horn, was loudly cheered by the crowd of people, and the vehicle was followed down the main streets of the city by some hundreds of spectators. There are three horses to the van, and relays of horses are provided at Hollins Green and Prescot. The coaches are timed to do the thirty-six mile journey in five and a half hours, arriving in Manchester and Liverpool respectively at 3.15 A.M."—Daily Paper, April 14, 1890.
