You are here
قراءة كتاب Punch, Or the London Charivari, Volume 107, December 8th, 1894
تنويه: تعرض هنا نبذة من اول ١٠ صفحات فقط من الكتاب الالكتروني، لقراءة الكتاب كاملا اضغط على الزر “اشتر الآن"
اللغة: English
Punch, Or the London Charivari, Volume 107, December 8th, 1894
الصفحة رقم: 6
that "a very faint comet had been discovered by Mr. Edward Smith. It was moving slowly towards the east." Wounded it may be by a shooting star, and "moving," perhaps crawling, to finish its existence in the east. Was ever heard a more moving tale than this of the crawling comet! Alas! Ere now it may be ... but the subject is too pathetic for words.
THE HOUSE-AGENT'S DREAM.
The dreary fog envelopes all the street, The dingy chambers seem more dingy still.— To advertise them as a "charming suite" Would tax e'en my imaginative skill!— But when I feel dejected, sad, or ill, In swift imagination I can fly To that sweet residence which some day will A home to Phyllis and myself supply, When fortune, long-delayed, shall join us by-and-by.
"Delightful scenery" the spot surrounds Where that "palatial edifice" will stand, Secluded pleasantly in "park-like grounds," (Which means an acre of neglected land,) Shooting and hunting will be "near at hand," (Provided you interpret rightly "near.") The bracing climate, too, is simply grand— Its title to the epithet is clear, Compared, at least, with this appalling atmosphere!
"Reception halls" there certainly will be, "Elegant boudoirs," too, where we shall sit And entertain acquaintances with tea, A "library"—I doubt my using it, But every mansion has one, you'll admit— Stabling that's "excellent," but not too big, (A cupboard for my bicycle, to wit,) "Shelter for stock "—a solitary pig— "And spacious flower-beds"—which I shall have to dig!
So, Phyllis, from all murmuring refrain, Nor let the thought of poverty annoy, Although you view a "villa" with disdain, And sigh for riches as your chiefest joy, While monetary pleasures quickly cloy, "Sweet are the uses of advertisement," The magic of my calling I employ, And lo! a home that might a prince content, Though fifty pounds a year may pay its modest rent!