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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, October 28th 1893
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 105, October 28th 1893
edited by Sir Francis Burnand
MY LANDLORD.
(By a Tenant.)
Who asked a rent absurdly high;
Who never scrupled at a lie?
The house well built! The soil so dry!
My Landlord.
Whose saving schemes cause constant fears
The house will fall about my ears?
I say it totters, and he sneers.
My Landlord.
The cellar's flooded when it rains;
The ceilings show damp, mouldy stains.
Who swindled me about the drains?
My Landlord.
Who called the house extremely nice?
It's simply overrun with mice,
The cook has had hysterics twice.
My Landlord.
Who praised the garden in a way
To seem like Eden? I should say
The soil is brickbats mixed with clay.
My Landlord.
Who said each kind of plant succeeds?
Yet when I sow the choicest seeds
They all develop into weeds.
My Landlord.
What's this? A note from him—a few
Short lines to say the rent is due.
Who tells me facts not new, if true?
My Landlord.
A Suggestion.—A decoration for Jabez Balfour,—"The Order of the Golden Fleece."
RECKLESS.
Moderate Swell. "Going to take a Cab?"
Immoderate Swell. "Er—no."
M. S. "No Umbrella, I see."
Imm. S. "Er—no, dear Boy. See—if you—er—carry 'brella—Looks as if you'd only One Suit a Clothes!"
MY TENANT.
(By a Landlord.)
Who haggled long about the price;
Who says my house is far from nice;
Who seeks solicitor's advice?
My Tenant.
Who wants incessantly repairs
To floors and ceilings, steps and stairs;
Who doats on hygienic scares?
My Tenant.
Who lives in fear of sewer gas,
So that the plumbers soon amass
Vast sums, once mine? That utter ass,
My Tenant.
Eternally some fresh complaint;
Distemper, whitewash, paper, paint!
He is enough to vex a saint—
My Tenant.
Who lets the garden go to pot?
What used to be a pleasant spot
Is worse than an allotment plot.
My Tenant.
Deferring payments suits his bent;
When various demands I've sent;
Unwillingly he pays the rent,
My Tenant.
A note from him? Another growl!
Some chimney smokes, he wants a cowl.
Thus he complains, that moping owl,
My Tenant.
Mrs. R. says she always understood you must "catch your hare before you cook it;" so she cannot for the life of her make out what a friend of hers meant by telling her that "when their kitchen-maid cooked the hare she caught it afterwards!"
A DIARY À LA RUSSE.
Monday.—Rather tired of this constant hand-shaking, and even the lady-kissing is somewhat wearisome. Especially when the fair dames do not draw the line at sixty. However, no doubt well meant. Found usual collection of miscellaneous presents. Don't quite know what I shall do with ton of tallow. Somehow our hosts fancy we require it. Latest addition from the advertising merchants—a Patent Tombstone (with space for affiches at back) and Somebody's Remedy for Neuralgia. Wish our hosts would not send us such a lot of things! Have been staying at my hotel all day long on the chance of escaping attention, and thus be able to find my way to the Moulin Rouge. Just got past the porter, when I was caught by one of the attachés and carried off to a State Dinner. Spent the rest of the evening in shouting "Long Live France!" and listening to the Russian National Hymn.
Tuesday.—Hope I shall have better luck to-day. My hand is twice its normal size, thanks to the shaking. More presents. Candles by the hundredweight, and bear's-grease by the ton. Some one has sent a Boot-blacking Machine, and wants a testimonial. On the watch all day. Trust to get to the Folies Bergères some time or another. Just crawled out when seized by a friendly député, and hurried off to a function at the Hotel de Ville!
Wednesday.—Absolutely done up. Deafened with the "Marseillaise," and sick to death of "The Emperor's Hymn." Usual collection of presents. Five thousand fire-alarms! One of them alone enough to wake up a slumbering town of half a million inhabitants! Ladies of all ages (especially of mature age) anxious to kiss me. Could not walk across the road this morning for them! Had to stop in the hotel all day long. Tried to escape in the evening on the chance of finding my way to a "concert-music-hall," when seized by an officer of the French Marine, and carried away to a Reception!
Thursday.—I have now been in Paris four days and seen nothing, absolutely nothing! Of course most gratifying from a patriotic point of view, but if this is Paris why give me St. Petersburg, or even Siberia! Can't move a step without having my hand shaken off. Not a moment's privacy; and as for the presents, I am absolutely deluged with them! and such idiotic gifts! All the advertisers in the country seem to have found us out. What use on earth can I make of an elephant's feeding-spoon or a lady's comb for curling the hair? I made a last effort to get to the Moulin; but, of course, again frustrated. I was seized by an "A.-D.-C." and taken to a State Lecture!
Friday.—Giving way to despair! What a hollow thing is popular applause! I am absolutely tired to death of it. I cannot repeat (for very weariness), the various ovations I have received. I have been accepted with cheers at all hours of the day and night! Oh, how glad I would be to get back! At the last moment I saw my way to a stealthy visit to the Folies, when I was secured and booked for two dinners and a "punch." Betrayed! Betrayed!
Saturday.—Still hunted. Not allowed to go anywhere except when my tormentors drag me to some official function. Have sold all my presents for ten francs. Have received marching orders for Toulon. Just as I was about to escape and proceed to the Moulin Rouge, captured by "my friends the enemy," or should it be "my enemies the friends"? Had to submit to the usual enthusiasm on my road to the railway station. Fortune of war I suppose, or rather of peace. Of the two, the latter I should think was the more deadly. Last strain of the "Marseillaise," last kiss from some one's grandmother, and curtain! Glad it's all over!
By Mr. Justice Charles (omitted in reports of his decision last week).—"The Dahomey Troupe of Amazons appear only in the evenings at certain music-halls. Their name should