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قراءة كتاب Punch, or the London Charivari, January 5th, 1895
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
quo. And, to prove the sincerity of my love and admiration for the greatest Cricketer of all time, I propose, my dear (prospective) Sir William Gilbert Grace, K.G. (Knight of the Game), to head that same National Testimonial with a contribution outshining and out summing all others, to wit my
PUNCH, OR THE LONDON CHARIVARI
Volume 108, January 5, 1895.
edited by Sir Francis Burnand
MR. PUNCH WELCOMES THE NEW YEAR.
So, 'Ninety-Five, my boy, you've come at last!
Another year has gone, and I am here
To greet you, as your brothers in the past
Were greeted on their coming, year by year;
For it's always been my practice, Sir—a bit of Punch's lore—
Since the day that I was volumed, until now I'm fifty-four
Aye, fifty-three New Years I've welcomed. This
I pray to Heaven in its arms may bear
A whole New Yearful of a nation's bliss—
A world without a tear, without a care.
'Tis thus that I have prayed, young Sir, full many years before;
But to know how oft I've prayed in vain, would make your young heart sore.
The Year that's dead was better, sure, than some;
But even he brought with him strikes and war,
Whose ghastly horrors smote the soft heart numb
And wrung and chilled it to the very core.
'Twas a villainous attention, this suffering and gore,
That we'd rather have dispensed with, from your brother 'Ninety-Four
But even he, my lad, a jest could work,
And on occasion smile, and nod, and beck;
To England gave—a rising Son of York,
And gave to Ireland—Mr. Gladstone's cheque!
Thus tickling Mr. Bull from smiles and laughter to a roar.
But hearty laughs like these, my friend, were few in 'Ninety-Four.
And you, young shaver, what is it you bring?
Razor and soap, like shavers young and old—
The soap to soothe, razor to cut and sting?—
Will wedding-bell be heard, and death-knell toll'd?
You see, my lad, we're anxious as to what you have in store,
For there's still some things to put to rights bequeathed by Ninety-Four.
In Parliament, no doubt, you'll make your game—
In Camp, and Court, and County Council, too?
Make sport of love—make foul an honoured name—
And all the little fun you're wont to do?
Well—take my tip. Just do your level best, remember! For
The blame, my son, lies at your own, not Mr. Punch's door.
So mind, young Sir, for Mr. Punch's eye
Is cocked upon you through your little life.
Go—rule the world!—and if before you die
You fill the earth with joy instead of strife,
You'll be the first of all your race—for all the smiles they wore—
That gave the country what she asked—from 0 to '94!
PROTEST FROM THE PLAYGROUND.
Dear Mr. Punch,—I know you sympathise with boys, and isn't it a jolly shame the masters set us such awfully hard questions in exams.? My Report has just come home, and my Pater has given me a fearful rowing, and all because it says "Wilkins Terts. (that's me) has done badly in Examinations, and does not take the trouble to use what intelligence he possesses." My Pater threatens not to take me to the Pantymime, and I hear it's awfully beefy this year! Well, we had a "History and General Knowledge" paper, and one of the questions was this beastly one, and of course I couldn't tackle it—"What, or where, are the following:—'Imperium in Imperio, The Korea, Bimetallism, The Grand Llama, Balance of Power, and One Man One Vote?'" I answered all right about the Korea, because I kicked young Smith under the table to give me a tip about it, and he said it was the book the Turks use in church; and I put that down, but all the other things floored me. Please will you say what Bimetallism is? Jones Junior said afterwards, in the playground, that it was a sort of lozenge, and Robinson Senior said he didn't know what it was, but he knew his Pater was a Bimetallist; and Jones said Robinson Senior's Pater must be a confectioner then; and so Robinson punched Jones's head; but what is it? And is it fair to ask us boys such questions? My Pater said at breakfast the School Board was fond of sending out sirkulers. Do you think they would send one to our Head-master, and ask him to stop such rot?
SPORT IN COURT.
["The Anti-Gambling League has decided to take proceedings against the Jockey Club.... In the view of the League every member of the Jockey Club is equally open to indictment."—Morning Post.]
A VIEW HALLOO.
(Hounds at fault.)
Whip (bustling up to Young Hodge, who has just begun to wave his cap and sing out lustily). "Now then, where is he?"
Young H. "Yonder, Sir! Acomin' across yonder!"
Whip. "Get out, why there ain't no Fox there, stoopid!"
Young H. "No, Sir; but there be our Billy on t' Jackass!"
SPORT IN COURT;
Or, The New Year Dream of the National Anti-Gambling Leaguer.
Oh! it must have been the grog, for I slumbered like a log,