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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, June 8, 1895

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Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, June 8, 1895

Punch, or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, June 8, 1895

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دار النشر: Project Gutenberg
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PUNCH,
OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI.

Vol. 108.


June 8, 1895.


ROBERT ON THE TEMS.

Me and sum of the Gents of the Lundon County Counsel, as they calls theirselves, has had sum considerable differences of opinion lately, but I don't suppose as it will cum to much. It seems as sum on em has got theirselves elected into the Tems Conserwancy Gents, and nothink as is dun quite sattisfys em unless they has the best places on bord the crack steamers as takes em either up the River or Down the River, as the case may be. In course they all wants the werry best heatables and drinkables, and plenty on em; but if the water appens to be jest a little ruff, the one thing as they all scrambles for is plenty to heat and plenty to drink, and a nice quiet seat in the Saloon all the way home.

I herd tell the other day as how as some of the Tems Conserwancy Gents had a reglar quarrel with sum of the County Counsel Gents, all becoz of the diffrence that sum on em wants to make in the way in which things is conducted on bord when agoing on their way home. It most suttenly must make a great diffrence weather it is a nice, brillyant, sunny day, and all happy on bord, or weather it is a dull, dark, rainy day, and not room enuff for harf the cumpany.

I don't find as how as the too partys in the Corporation agrees with one another more than they used to when they used to quarrel so much about everythink. In fack they seems jist as much opposed to each other as ever, and I, for my part, most truly hopes as how as they will continue in the same noble spirit, and then they will hate each other with the same cordial hatred as so distinguished them in days gone by.

I don't know a greater treat myself than spending a nour or too with the County Counsellers at Charing Cross. They can lay the stingers about in splendid style, and both sides of the question, much alike in force, and werry much alike in quolity. But the werry finist sight of all I shoud think wood be to see a thorowly good set to between a picked set of the Tems Conserwancy and another of the County Counsellers. From what I hears of the former I shoud think their chance would be grand indeed, and from what I have herd of their reckless perseverance I should think their loss almost incredible. The Tems is the river for me, and long may it remain so!

Robert.


ROUNDABOUT READINGS.

Terrible things have been happening in Newcastle. If any one doubts this statement, let him read the following extract from one of the local papers. "Though it is a good while," observes a leader-writer, "since it could be said with justice that the trade of the country was advancing by leaps and bounds, the observation may with absolute accuracy be made with respect to our Newcastle rates. They have stolen along with woollen feet, and are now about to strike with iron hands."


I bow to the ground in awe-struck admiration before this picture of rates stealing along on woollen feet and raising iron hands for a deadly blow at the unfortunate ratepayers of Newcastle. There is something fell and savage in the mere contemplation of it. Prose is quite inadequate to it; it demands rhyme, and must have it:—

Consider Newcastle, its pitiful case,

Where the rates have a habit of stealing.

'Tis a way they are prone to in many a place,

And they do it without any feeling.

They move without noise, and they thus get the pull,

Like a cab with a new rubber tyre on;

For their feet, it is said, are a compound of wool,

Though the hands that they strike with are iron.

The vision appals me, one glimpse is enough;

With terror my bosom is heaving.

Yet I venture the hint—do not treat it as stuff—

That steel were more suited for thieving.


Something always appears to be wrong with the streets of Bristol. I had to notice the melancholy case of Christmas Street last week. The epidemic has now extended to Old Market Street. Here the pitching is so dangerous that horses fall and break their legs, and ladies die from falls on Easter Mondays. A correspondent who calls attention to this matter says that "it is quite annoying on a busy day to have to ask customers two, three, or even four times what they require." I scarcely see what this has to do with the pavement, but personally I have always found it more than annoying to be asked four times as much as I require, even when my requirements are small, as they usually are. It is gratifying to find that, in Old Market Street, at any rate, the shopkeeper who asks has an equal share of annoyance.


Then again, Conduit Place, Lower Ashley Road, is not only badly lighted, but its name is practically unknown. "Even shopkeepers in the neighbourhood and policemen on the beat do not seem to know of it, and sometimes lead people astray in consequence." This, however, is not to be wondered at, as "another difficulty is the numbering of the houses; although only about thirty in the road, they are divided into five terraces with different sets of numbers, which causes endless confusion."


Increase not, wanderer, the policeman's load;

Ask not the site of Lower Ashley Road.

Inquire not eagerly for Conduit Place,

But start unasking on thy terraced chase.

These places to policemen are unknown,

So shall the pride of finding be thine own.

Go forth, go forth, itinerary pundit,

And find the place that takes its name from Conduit.

Thy journey, after many a turn and twist'll

Land thee at Lower Ashley Road in Bristol.

Then pause, and, having raised a thankful voice,

Take 'midst five terraces thy doubtful choice;

And, envied by policemen on their beats,

Return, a lexicon of Bristol streets.


But the badness of the streets and the ignorance of policemen as to their whereabout is nothing to the annoyance caused by the Salvation Army bands near St. Clement's Church in Newfoundland Road. "On Ascension Day," the Vicar writes, "our service was completely stopped for several minutes, as the preacher, who had a bad cold, was unable to shout above the din of the passing drum." I shudder to imagine what would have been the plight of the congregation if the preacher had been free from cold, and capable of shouting down a drum.


Rowing and cricket are more closely connected than many people suppose. In an account of the Oxford eight-oared bumping races, I read that "New College started at a tremendous bat." This of course accounts for the bawling on the bank by which these races are always accompanied. Further on it is stated that "New College finished at 40, all out"—which seems rather a small score.


I commend the brevity of the Mayor of Cambridge, Mr. Hyde Hills, who, being obviously above Hyde Park, does not condescend to the verbosity of the spouters

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