قراءة كتاب Mr. Punch's Life in London
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class="c6">(For August)
Monday.—Got up at nine o'clock. Lounged to the park. No one there. Went to bed at twelve.
Tuesday.—Got up at ten o'clock. Walked to the House of Commons. Closed. Went to bed at eleven.
Wednesday.—Got up at eleven o'clock. Looked in at Prince's. Deserted. Went to bed at ten.
Thursday.—Got up at twelve o'clock. Strolled to the club. Shut up for repairs. Went to bed at nine.
Friday.—Got up at one o'clock. Stayed at home. Dull. Went to bed at eight.
Saturday.—Got up at five a.m. Went out of town at six.
The Reverse of the School for Scandal.—A school in which very few members of society are brought up—a charity school.
PAST RECLAIMING
Brixton Barber. "Revival seems to be in the hair, sir."
Customer. "Not in mine!"
FOG
Thou comest in familiar guise,
When in the morning I awake,
You irritate my throat and eyes,
I vow that life's a sad mistake.
You come to hang about my hair,
My much-enduring lungs to clog,
I feel you with me everywhere,
Our own peculiar London fog.
You clothe the City in such gloom,
We scarce can see across the street,
You seem to penetrate each room,
And mix with everything I eat.
I hardly dare to stir about,
But sit supine as any log;
You make it torture to go out,
Our own peculiar London fog.
'Bus Driver (to Cabby, who is trying to lash his horse into something like a trot). "Wot's the matter with 'im, Willum? 'E don't seem 'isself this mornin'. I believe you've bin an' changed 'is milk!"
A SKETCH FROM LIFE
Chorus (slow music). "We're a rare old—fair old—rickety, rackety crew!"
