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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 93, November 26, 1887
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, Vol. 93, November 26, 1887
id="pgepubid00008">THE WAIL OF THE WIRE.
(With apologies to the Poet.)
"It is stated that Mr. Swinburne's new poem was cabled to New York."
Had I wist, wailed the wire in sea's hollow,
That thousands of lines I should list,
Pumped forth by a son of Apollo,
I would not have lain here, not I,
'Twixt Briton and Yankee a tie:
No messages through me should fly,
Had I wist.
Had I wist, they would make me swallow,
Huge poems all moonshine and mist,
In addition to "speeches" all hollow;
They shouldn't have cabled a thing,
They shouldn't have used me to wing,
Leagues of rhymes that the word-spinners sing,
Had I wist.
Valuable Opinion.—We understand that the Authorities have consulted Mr. Briefless, Junior, Q.C., (Queer Counsel) on the right claimed by indifferent passers-by to stand between the police and the mob, in view of the Chief Commissioner's statement that such passers-by cause the chief difficulty in quelling disturbance; The learned Counsel has given a lucid opinion to the effect that any mere sightseer may be arrested and imprisoned, unless he or she can prove the having come to the spot for a riotous or other unlawful object.
May in November.
(At the Royalty Theatre.)
Pieces French they're playing,—
Jane's a pretty player,—
Come with me a-Maying,
Gaily sings the Mayer.
The Lesson for the Day.—At Lowestoft Mr. Mundella spoke well and wisely on certain fishery questions. "With regard to outrages," said he, "in the North Sea, I counsel English fishermen to suffer wrong rather than do wrong, as then they could demand the protection of their industry by Government." Why not get the start of the Hartington and Goschen Travelling Co. (Limited), and deliver these excellent sentiments in Ireland?
"The Grosvenor 'Split,'" ought at once to be adopted by the Restaurant of that establishment as a title for a special mixed drink. Let Sir Coutts patent it.
"Special Constables."—Those belonging to the Collection in the National Gallery.
"In the Press."—Mr. O'Brien's clothes.
'TWILL ILLUME.
(Poe applied.)
"Mr. Walt Whitman has just sent to Mr. Ernest Rhys, a preface and some new material for a second 'popular' volume of prose, to consist of 'Democratic Vistas' and other pieces."
Then I pacified Psyche, and kissed her,
And tempted her out of her gloom,
With the latest Walt-Whitmanish "Vista,"
Which Democracy showed as our doom;
Our unwelcome but obvious doom.
And I said, "How's it written, sweet Sister?"
"Is it bosh? Will it be a big boom?"
She replied, "'Twill illume, 'twill illume.
It is bosh, but quidnuncs 'twill illume!"
*** Mr. Poe, and not Mr. Punch's Poet, is responsible for this Cockney rhyme.
"Christmas Is Coming!"—"Tell me not in Christmas Numbers," that Christmas is coming. We wish the good old gentleman would not announce his intended arrival so long beforehand. Everybody knows, that, like one of his own Christmas books, he is "bound to appear" at a certain fixed date. Among the first of the heralds on the bookstalls is the Christmas Number of the Penny Illustrated, price threepence, and well worth the money. Mr. Latey, Junior, arranges a Christmas Literary and Artistic Banquet, and every plate has a plateful of Christmas fare. The picture entitled "Spoons" and representing two persons in evening-dress slipping downstairs—"such a getting downstairs"—in a sitting position, probably two amateur Tobogganists, is distinctly humorous. The coloured illustration, called The Christmas Ball, will be a great favourite with boys. If the Early Bird still catches the worm, the Latey one who is first in the field with this Christmas number ought to pick up the three-pennies.
Literary.—It is announced that Mr. Snodgrass has "thoroughly revised his translations from Heine." We expect next to hear that Mr. Tracy Tupman has "Englished" Catullus, and that Mr. Winkle is preparing a new edition of the Book of Sports.
Floral Appeal To November.—"Fog-get-me-not!"
THE NE PLUS ULTRA.
Jeames I. "Very dangerous Parties these Hunemployed! Why, they're a beginnin' to denounce Hus!" Jeames II. "No!"
"'Twas in Trafalgar's Square."
Nov. 20, 1887.
Nelson (as Special Constable) sings:—
"England expects that every man
This day will go on Duty!"
The Last of the Solomonses.—The final knockdown blow was given to poor Tupper's Proverbial Philosophy by Mr. John Morley, who, in his admirable discourse on Aphorisms, described it as a "too famous volume," which "had immense vogue, but it is so vapid, so wordy, so futile, as to have a place among the books that dispense with parody." Alas! poor Tupper! Mr. Punch bids thee adieu for ever!
Will Mr. Lockyer turn his attention Eastwards, and inform us if the Corporation of the City of London is a "Self-luminous Body"? If so, couldn't it be utilised in a fog?
Describing the state of mind her Nephew was in on not being able to find a stud at the last moment to put in his shirt-front, Mrs. Ram said, "Oh, he was awfully iterated."
A Mess.—What's on the tapis in France? Grévy. M. Wilson, who speaks Latin with English pronunciation, throws all the blame on his father-in-law, and says it's a "Grévy delictum."