قراءة كتاب Punch or the London Charivari, Vol. 108, March 23, 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. 108, March 23, 1895
class="i4">While you, and all my sons, stick to that motto!
A Parliamentary Paradox.—Sir Ellis Ashmead-Bartlett (alias "Silomio") begs the Government to suppress the Boers.
Convalescent.—After "a bout" of influenza, the best thing for the patient is to be "about again."
LENT.
Sunday Visitor. "Is Mrs. Brown at Home?"
Servant. "No, Sir. Mrs. Brown is playing Lawn-Tennis next door."
Sunday Visitor. "Are the Young Ladies at Home?"
Servant. "No, Sir; they are at Church!"
MY PARTNER.
Sweet girl in white, sweet girl in green.
Perhaps not either, do you think
O even sweeter girl in pink?
It's just as well I should not tell
Which seemed the belle, sweet girl in pink.
Her face was fair, her laugh was gay.
A lively dance with her would cure
The worst of human ills, I'm sure.
Her pretty face would soon replace
The saddest ease with health I'm sure.
Would try undoubtedly to dance;
The dullest fool, the saddest cur,
Might both be charmed to dance with her;
And here's a tip, don't let it slip,
To cure la grippe just dance with her.
If I described the charmer's dress;
I will not name a single stitch
To show which of them may be which;
Pink, white or green, each one has seen
That I must mean she may bewitch.
THE ORIGINAL ARYAN TO THE PROFESSOR.
And you have done me wrong—
I did not come from Hindostan,
I've been here all along.
In huge successive waves.
You'll find your ancestors deceased
Inside your own old caves.
Mixed up with mastodons,
Which very long with flints I fought
Before I fought with bronze.
Ere mats I learned to make;
I dug my dwellings in the ground,
Or reared them on a lake.
Although you say I penned
All manner of theologies
In Sanskrit and in Zend!
When first I sojourned here,
I worshipped chunks of stone or wood,
My rites were rather queer!
The less you'll care to praise
And bless the dear old Aryan
Of Neolithic days.
I hardly can report
Whether I first was tall and fair
Or I was dark and short.
Through all their noise and strife,
I didn't come from Asia; and
I had no Higher Life!
Verger (to over-generous Visitor). "I beg your pardon, Sir. No Gratuities—er—at present. But—er—the Dean will have passed in Two Minutes, Sir!"
THE HIGHER CRITICISM.
Scene—Author at his desk, with Newspaper Cuttings before him.
And I will profit by;
I'll find out what they most abuse,
And strive to rectify!"
We think upon the whole
This author almost would succeed
If nearer to his goal."
Revealing thought and heart;
But he is quite unbearable
When trying to be smart!"
With pleasure we have read;
But if he moralises, then
He's heavier than lead!"
It isn't from his books—
He is not such a fool as he
Invariably looks."
A sympathetic mind,—
Of subtle knowledge, tender skill,
Deep pathos, wit refined."