You are here
قراءة كتاب Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 109, September 21, 1895
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. 109, September 21, 1895
steamer and the shore. I, moi qui parle, saw the men bailing the water out of these boats as they returned from shore; saw the men and women jammed up together trying to keep at least their ankles dry; and if there had only been some playful 'Arries among the lot, just a lurch to one side, or the other, would at least have shipped enough water to have drenched them up to the knees, and then one frightened person might in terror have capsized the boat. I do not know who regulates these matters, I only describe what I saw with my own eyes and what struck me as being decidedly perilous. Is it impossible to build out a pier at Lundy Island? If impossible, cannot some regulation as to the number every boat is to carry be enforced?[A]
* * *
The perfumes of Ilfracombe (I think I saw the "Perfume d'Ilfracombe" advertised as sold in bottles at a local hairdresser's) are various at various times. Always on the Torrs is the perfume perfect. But in the lower part of the town they are select and peculiar; as thus:—Early morning, coming from bathing, and passing by hotels and boarding-houses, appetising perfume of eggs and bacon everywhere, with that of fried fish thrown in. The perfume in the road by the tennis courts, where the donkey chairs and cabs stand, is, as may be imagined, most delightful when all the flys and donkeys are there at midday, afternoon, and evening. And in the early morning the faint reminiscence of yesterday's donkey and cab-stand perfume is, it need hardly be said, most exhilarating and delightful to the unbreakfasted passer-by.
New Version.
(For the Nursery of the Future.)
She lived upon nothing but paper and ink,
Though paper and ink formed her favourite diet,
This noisy New Woman could never keep quiet!
"Currant" Records.—The Cunard steamer Aleppo, with a cargo of 1500 tons of currants on board, has succeeded in raisin' the record between Patras and Liverpool, having accomplished the voyage in 9 days 21½ hours. This vessel has the honour of being the first in with the new currant crop, and, as a reward, she will be allowed "enhanced freights." 1500 tons of currants fully entitle her, we should say, to "take the cake."
CABBY; OR, REMINISCENCES OF THE RANK AND THE ROAD.
(By "Hansom Jack.")
No. IV.—OFF DUTY—HARMONY—"HANSOM UP!"
Why, certainly genelmen! Wot do you think? There is few things like 'orses to make fellows 'earty.
Your coachees, and carters, and costers, and such, not to name racing coves, are in general most chummy,
And if doing London on wheels every day didn't make Cabbies feel in one swim, 'twould be rummy.
But bless yer, we're all on the same job you see, and oarn't be too pertikler in rankin' an' classin'.
Dirty pertaters, of course, do abound, but we don't shove on side if a chap's a bit decent,
And consequent clubs are a bit in our line, likeways free-and-easies. I've joined one quite recent.
Wish I could touch my Jim Crow's mornin' flute o'er a mealy and turf with my tenorish squeaking.
Still, I'm in request when the 'armony's on, and I just do my level, along o' the others.
I tell you there's talent among us sometimes, though the chippers nickname us the Hullaboo Brothers.
Can write 'is own songs. You should just 'ear 'im tip us "A Tanner a Mile," or "The Broom and the Duster."
Chevalier himself couldn't top 'im in patter. 'E's writ me a song—me an' 'im being pally—
It's called "Hansom Up!" an' the first night I give it—with thanks to B. B.!—'twos a regular rally.
"That larst wos a gusher as made us feel sniffy; toon up sutthing lively, and give us a tonic!
Young Scrag o' Lamb's love-songs are like sweetened gin, Jack, they want a kerrective, a Scotch, or a Bitter."
"Right, Bungo!" sez I, "I will give yer dry fizz 'stead o' pep'ment," as set 'im an' Vice on the titter.
HANSOM UP!
An' I cut my heye-teeth early, you can bet,—
You can bet!
I 'ad 'ardly took to socks, when I mounted on the box,
And larnt to tyke it smilin', dry or wet,—
Dry or wet!
Me nyme is Bob Fitzgibbons. I've a light 'and on the ribbons,
And mates christened me the Piccadilly Pup,—
Dilly Pup.
With my smart snuff-coloured bowler, and my natty button-'oler,
I arnser to the cry of Hansom Up!—
Hansom Up!!
From Putney up to pleasant Pentonville,—
Pentonville.
And then I'm on the chivvy! Lardy toff or mild old mivvey
I can drive with demon dash or cautious skill,—
Careful skill.
For the pace that takes yer dandy, when the Four Hexpress is 'andy,
Will scare old Mother Miggs and 'er pug-pup,—
Puffy pup!
And to take it 'ot or easy, as the hasphalte's dry or greasy,
Is the diplymattic dodge of Hansom Up!—
Hansom Up!